Reflection in Flames
by HotaruGFC
Summary: Set just before the battle of Ostengar, a Grey Warden reflects on life as another is brought into the fold.


**Note:** I do not own the concepts, characters or locations depicted in this story that were also seen in Dragon Age: Origins. I am, however the owner of this particular "nameless warden." I shall let you read into it what you will. Based on a Female Human Noble play through, set right at the arrival of the PC at Ostengar.

Reflections in flames

I can feel them, the gathering of masses. The stirring darkness in the distance swells beneath the ground further to the south. I can feel it like a cold chill in my bones. It calls to me, haunting me, chasing, drawing me out. It has been a long time since I felt this much darkness stirring. Not even in the depths beneath Orzammar does the darkness grow so black. Not since my Joining have I felt it threaten to overcome me so completely. I am tempted to return to the religion of my youth and ask the priest prayers and blessings. I am no fool however. There are no blessings that can protect me, save the tainted blood that runs through my veins.

I watch Duncan approach the encampment with a new eager recruit in tow. A trusted friend and mentor, he will soon be lost to all of us, be it to the darkspawn masses, the archdemon or the calling itself. I will not be far behind him as my own dreams have begun to return, or perhaps it is because of the proximity of the horde. I cannot tell. He's talking with King Cailin now, that romantic fool. Always he prattles on about riding to battle and fighting for glory. There will be no glory when we ride into battle, there will be only survival and death. The darkspawn will fight mercilessly and to the last… man.

Do he and his men have the same conviction?

I look closer at the young woman who would be the newest of us—fiery red hair, noble demeanor, confident, but… troubled. She suffered greatly and recently; her grief is like an open wound upon her. The poor child, she does not know what she is taking upon her.

My attention is drawn away from the exchange by a sudden halt in the conversation around me. Looking at my companions by the fire, I notice that two of the three young men are staring at Duncan's companion. Alistair, the poor boy, wears his thoughts on his sleeve. It must have been tough, growing up in the Chantry, being denied the opportunity to be a young man. He tries to hide his thoughts, but I can see how he wars with himself as he watches her. Eventually the prim and proper templar wins, but the desire is still there, buried by his sense of duty. He is still so young, and in so many ways.

I smile wanly, nostalgically, remembering a time when I too was young, when Duncan rescued me. Staring into the flames, my vision blurs as memories pour forth, unbidden, until I feel a hand on my shoulder. My mind snaps back to the present, to the sounds and smells of battle preparations and the calm before the storm. Duncan is there, my old friend, my mentor, my one-time lover. He smiles sadly. He knows it too. Tomorrow we make our stand. Tomorrow may be our last.

He brushes a stray lock of dark hair behind my ear, the only touch of affection he allows himself. His eyes say so much more. They tell the story of longing, desire and regret, but also determination and pride. They also shine with love as he looks at me. After so many years, I do not need to hear the words to know the feeling is there. He tells me the story of the new recruit, Elissa Cousland, a surname I know well. I listen, half heartedly, just content to be with him on this last night. I wonder when it was I started thinking of the night before battle as my last. It is not a bad thing, I reflect, as it keeps me from allowing myself to regret too many things. And if I should survive, then that is one more day the Maker has seen fit to give me.

As quickly as it started, our moment together has ended. She has returned now, drawing him back to his duty. I watch him giving orders briefly to her, Alistair and the other recruits before discussing the Joining preparations with one of the mages. I, too, should return to my task, preparing the few other Grey Wardens for tomorrow's fray. Before I head off, I look deep into the flames once more, drawing on their purifying strength as the essence of what I am resonates within me. A murmured prayer escapes my lip.

"If we are to pass from this life tomorrow, may our deaths serve to bring peace to others. In war, victory. In peace, diligence. In death, sacrifice."


End file.
